Worth
by marchog
Summary: Since Erebor was taken by Smaug, Thorin Oakenshield's trust of others has dwindled down to twelve dwarves, one hobbit, and a wizard. So when Gandalf asks him to extend his brittle faith in one other, Thorin's expectations are set low. After all, how can a woman be of any use? Based on movie/book/my own events. M for language and maybe some scenes (wink wink) later!
1. Chapter 1- Prologue

Beginning

Moonlight made shadows sharp and ominous in the woods. All was quiet, except for the gentle burbling of the stream not too far away. Somewhere an owl hooted, piercing the night with its screech.

She looked up into the trees. Stars winked down at her in the gaps of the branches, and the moon glinted with its pure, white light.

She always liked the night. While the scene in front of her might strike most as eerie, she drew comfort from the soft rustling of leaves as the wind blew gently, from the shadows that looked so enormous, from the stars that always greeted her with the same familiarity; and always, without fail, day or night, the smell of burning wood from outside the cabin.

She could just about hear her father humming to himself within, and judging from the clattering he must be clearing up the table after supper. She smiled to herself as she knew what tune he was singing quietly, the same as always. She closed her eyes and leant against a beech, as she heard her father's words wash over her.

" _Nid wy'n gofyn bywyd moethus,_

 _Aur y byd na'i berlau mân.."_

Somewhere to her right, a twigged snapped.

Her eyes flew open, her hand on the short dagger on her hip. She tensed as she strained her ears to listen. Quietly, so quietly, she trod around the beech and peered into the silvery darkness.

Nothing.

She exhaled silently as the tension from seconds ago left her body. Probably just an animal. Still, Da had taught her well. Always be ready.

Always sounded a bit corny, but there you go.

Sheathing her dagger (she hadn't even realised that she had drew it), she started her way back to the cabin, following the little yellow glow ahead that could only be from the kitchen window.

Suddenly, the glow went out. She frowned. Da always kept the candle going until they both went to bed. Must've reached the wick-

With a crash so loud that it must've woken the whole of Middle-earth, her father screamed. Her blood ran cold and she stood still, rooted to the spot with fear as she heard footsteps that weren't Da's, rough voices that weren't Da's.

Her brain ground into action, making her body move from her temporary paralysis; _get to Da, get to Da, get your sword, get to Da…_

She grabbed her sword from her pack that was close to the cabin, where she had luckily left it when she went for a piss in the woods. _Get to Da…_

Noises reached her, noises that she knew came from swords; she could hear the footsteps more now, heavy and clumpy as the fight carried on. She had heard nothing more from Da since his yell, but she'd seen him fight. He reminded her of a lynx when he fought, light on his feet and almost noiseless except for the ringing of his sword.

She sprinted towards the cabin, and leapt up the short stairs that led up to the platform on which the wooden house was built. She crouched low, and crawled towards the kitchen window, the noise from within louder than ever. Raising herself up on her heels ever so slowly, she peered into the cabin.

Sure enough, there was her father. He was almost dancing. His sword sang as orcs fell around him, and she counted quickly. Five dead already, three more.

 _Ok, ok, if I can jump through this window and reach him in time, I can kill two of them while Da finishes the last one off, then-_

As she watched, her mind racing, her father suddenly fell on his knees in front of her. On his left shin, a gash glinted with fresh blood. Bone, starkly white against the deep red of blood, flashed when he moved slightly. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stop a scream bursting out. _Do something you idiot! Save Da! Save Da…!_

Her legs were bent ready to launch herself through the window, sword in hand, when Da lifted his head slightly. His grey eyes flickered towards her. He knew she was there in the shadows. Of course he did. _Stay where you are._

One orc stepped towards her father, while caressing its sword with an almost lovingly. God, it was ugly, its sword a brutal thing too. It bent down until its face was level with Da's.

"A dwarf. Name of Oakenshield." the orc spat. "Where?"

Her father levelled his gaze at the orc's. "I don't know, even if I knew who he was." His eyes danced with mirth, though his face was screwed up with disgust. "You're wasting your time. So fuck off."

The orc straightened up, and jerked its head at the other two. Da's eyes met his daughter's again with a steadfast stare, his jaw set in a grim determination. His face moved only slightly as the sword went into his back and through its chest, his eyes widening more as it withdrew.

She watched. She did nothing. She could only hear a roaring in her ears as her blood pumped furiously in her body, and her father slowly fell on his back onto the wooden floor.

The orcs kicked open the door they had forced open before. Through it, she glimpsed their wargs as they climbed atop of them and sped away with shrieks.

She couldn't remember getting to Da. She was just suddenly there.

She looked down at her father's chest and found she couldn't look away; redness seeped through his clothing, and his hands were stained the same colour. She stared at the wound while his breathing got more laboured the second.

"Mona."

She tore her eyes from the mass of red and into the grey of her father's eyes as he spoke her name. She felt her own eyes prick as she started to realise that Da was dying, actually dying...

"Go north. Find Gandalf. Tell him I'm dead, and he'll know what to do. He'll help you."

She frowned with confusion, despite her tears. "Help? Why would I need help? I can survive Da-"

Da smiled slightly and his breathing hitched with it. "Mona, this isn't about surviving. It's about _living_. _That's_ what I've been trying to teach you; you'll come to understand when you meet Gandalf. And...ask him why they came here. Why they came for me." Her father gasped suddenly with fresh pain. "G-go. Leave. They'll be back soon to search the house."

"No," she said in a cracked whisper, "I-I won't leave you Da, you'll get better, you'll see-"

"Mona."

And with that, she knew she had to. He said her name with such an unbearable finality. Da was _dying…_

She got up, left the kitchen, and climbed upstairs to her room. She gathered her things slowly, and took one last look at her room. She could hear her father gasping.

She raced back to him with her pack in hand, sword on her hip, daggers fastened around her waist.

"There's-there's some food from earlier.."

"Got it."

"And you'll take Cai?"

"Of course." Her father's horse.

He nodded. "Well then." He gasped again but smiled this time, locking her eyes with his once more.

"You're so much like your mother, you know. It's time to see her again, which isn't really so bad, is it?"

"No, Da.", she choked, tears streaming down her face. He gripped her hand like a vice and she held his just as tight.

"I love you Mona. More than you could ever know."

"Love you more though," she said tremulously, forcing a smile. He shook his head and laughed lightly. "Not possible. You'll understand wh-when you have a child.."

His hand relaxed around hers as his stormy eyes fixed on something in the distance, and his last breath escaped his body.

 _Dead, dead, dead, no no NO…._

She stayed by his side until a shriek, far in the distance, woke her up from her horrified stupor. Orcs. Time to go.

She got to her feet, muscles aching as she had stayed next to him for so long. She closed her father's eyes, but didn't place his sword on his chest, even though she longed too. No point telling the orcs that someone else had been here.

She had turned around and ducked her head to go out of the door, when she paused. She went back to Da and took his sword, replacing an old one she hardly used by his side. She left.

Saddling Cai was good. Made her think.

Finally, everything was ready. She swung up onto Cai's back, double checking that everything was tied on properly. She turned him around to have one last look at the place she called home, and felt her eyes filling up again.

"Stop it," she said to herself firmly, "Da wanted you to find Gandalf. You have food, a horse, a heading. You know how to fight. Get a grip."

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Mona turned Cai north.

A.N: So this is a prologue'Mona' is a Welsh name and it's basically a version of the name 'Ynys Môn', (Anglesey, in English), an island just off the north western coast of Wales. The song mentioned towards the start of the chapter is called 'Calon Lan'. I think it's really cool how easily the Welsh language can be incorporated into the Tolkien verse so easily, seeing as he based so much of his linguistic creations on it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! More to come :)


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo Baggins was not happy.

Rain had pounded down from the heavens for at least two hours; he was tired, wet, cold, and he had forgotten his handkerchief. His thighs were rubbed raw from riding his pony (much more likely to be a mule), and rain dripped constantly from the end of his nose. He had fallen off twice, much to the amusement of the dwarves, and had landed straight on his backside both times. Therefore, things were not going well.

Bilbo's mind strayed back to roughly three days ago when Gandalf (better known as "the strange fellow wi' pointy hat, does fireworks" in Hobbiton) announced an adventure would do the hobbit good, which was subsequently followed by the arrival of twelve dwarves later that evening. The aftermath in the pantry, kitchen and bathroom of the dwarves' visit made Bilbo's blood boil and his head ache, something that ought not to happen to a respectable Baggins as he.

 _Why in the name of all things holy, am I here?_ thought Bilbo, as he had done countless times during he signed the contract of Thorin Oakenshield's Company. He squinted through the downpour at said dwarf, who was leading the way. Thorin made Bilbo feel very small, and his voice always went high with slight fear if the dwarf spoke to him, which if that was seldom often.

Riding right at the back of the group as usual, Bilbo turned in his saddle, wincing, to Gandalf. "When are we stopping?" he said grumpily.

"When we reach Bree, Master Baggins, as you very well know." retorted the wizard.

"But how long will that _take_?"

Gandalf ignored him, and instead busied himself by fumbling in his tobacco pouch.

Bilbo huffed and plodded along moodily, giving short and disgruntled answers to any who spoke to him. The dwarves were annoying as equally as they were rude, decided Bilbo, but in different ways. Fili and Kili were cheery in all weathers (very odd to say the least when in a deluge, thought Bilbo), their whistling and singing persisting throughout. Others, like Dwalin and Nori, took to constant muttering under their breaths; during his time with them, Bilbo had learnt a number of swearwords that made his ears go pink with shock.

Three hours later, Bilbo gave a squeak of relief to see glowing lantern in the distance, accompanied by sounds of general hubbub that got louder as they drew nearer.

"Here we are then," said Gandalf as they reached the gate. "Now, stay together and don't give your true names," he grunted as he swung off his horse, if a little wobbly, "and do _not_ get drunk. Heavens knows what I'll put up with tomorrow morning if that's the case."

Bilbo huddled next to Myrtle as the dwarves passed through the gate in single file, grumbling of empty bellies and aching muscles. Gandalf led the way to The Prancing Pony's stables and stayed until their own ponies were settled, when he announced:

"Take extra care for an hour or two- I must leave you for a short while."

"Where?" asked Thorin immediately. "What business do you have?"

"Never you mind," said Gandalf, irked. "What matters is that I'll be back precisely when I mean to be."

Thorin narrowed his eyes, but then shrugged. "Do as you will; I have no objection."

"How very nice of you." said Gandalf sweetly.

"Come on," muttered Thorin, and the dwarves followed him into the tavern. Bilbo, last as usual, was just about to enter the sanctuary of warmth and food that was the Prancing Pony, when Gandalf yanked him back by his shoulder.

"Should anything go…not as planned," said Gandalf quietly, "I shall be in The Green Dragon. Find me there."

"Alright," said Bilbo, pulling back and rubbing his shoulder, "but I won't look after them, I won't be any kind of nanny-" he stopped short as Gandalf rolled his eyes.

"The Green Dragon. Don't forget." And with that, he was gone.

Bilbo stood blinking for a few moments until he realised yet again how cold it was, and retreated into the entrance of the tavern. Warmth flooded through him to his furry toes, as he hurried to a waitress for food.

Bilbo had sat down in a corner by the fire, ate his food and drank his ale when he realised the dwarves he was meant to be watching were nowhere to be seen.

He sat up with a start, scanning the crowd desperately for any sign of the dwarves. Finally, his ears pricked up as he detected what he thought was the deep rumble of Dwalin's voice, and Bilbo began pushing his way through the forest of legs; he rounded a corner to a brightly lit area of the pub, and the scene that met him nearly brought out a shriek.

Dori, Nori and Ori were on the top of one table, kicking off plates and tankards as they danced some bizarre step; Dwalin had one man in a headlock and was stamping on another's neck; Oin and Gloin were crying over many empty tankards, repeating "aye, those were the days"; Fili, Kili and Bofur were playing some kind of beer pong but were using Bombur's mouth as a target, and food as the ball; Bifur was doing something that made Bilbo shudder when he thought back to it; Balin was sitting in the corner on his own, looking very merry and vague, singing quietly to himself.

Bilbo stood there for what seemed like a millennia until he caught sight of his face reflected from a mirror on the wall opposite him; his eyes were popping, his mouth was stretched wide open as if he was screaming, which made it all the weirder as no noise came out at all. He snapped his mouth shut as Gandalf's words, "do _not_ get drunk" swam around his brain. He let his eyes wander over apocalypse in front of him until they found the last dwarf.

Thorin was bent nearly double over the bar, two tankards in each hand while begging the barman for another. Food (ham pie or mashed potato? Bilbo couldn't tell) hung from parts of his hair and his knuckles were bruised; he staggered slightly as someone pushed past him to get to the bar, his face settling in a frown, as his ale sloshed out of the cups and onto his clothes. At this, Thorin looked down on his front and observed his sodden tunic with mild surprise.

Bilbo could feel another shriek building inside of him, so instead he began to stalk towards the dwarf. He reached out and grabbed Thorin's tunic by the collar (which surprised himself), and dragged him to a less populated area of the tavern.

"What are you _doing_? You're making us vulnerable, anyone could be watching-"

"So? So? That's what I want," slurred Thorin, yet again spilling his drinks, "ev- _everyone_ should see _me-_ King of the Mountain! Th-that's me you know-"

"This is preposterous," fumed Bilbo, "Gandalf has sworn us all to complete secrecy-"

"Hmph," grunted Thorin, "He knows nothing of the world- he's got that f-funny hat, y'know-" Thorin stopped suddenly. He looked Bilbo in the eye almost apologetically, and promptly vomited all over the hobbit's tunic.

Hence why around 20 minutes later, Bilbo found himself outside The Green Dragon, yet again soaked to the bone but now with the added bonus of vomit. Inside, he immediately spotted a tall, grey, crooked hat, and started shoving his way towards it.

Suddenly, Bilbo stopped. He had gotten close enough to see that Gandalf was not alone, and was sitting across someone wearing a faded green cloak and hood. They were also wet, as if they had just come in the tavern themselves. Bilbo hesitated. Was it his business to go over and interrupt? Or should he wait until they were finished?

His predicament was solved when Gandalf happened to raise his head and catch a very anxious Bilbo's eye; he stood up immediately, said something to the person, and swept Bilbo out of the tavern.

"What happened?" Gandalf asked dangerously.

"Well, they, um-"

"Never mind. Go to your room Bilbo. There's no point you seeing the rest."

So it was early next morning when Bilbo saw the dwarves, who all had the same sickly green shade and sweaty sheen. Gandalf's rage was still apparent, as he refused to talk to them unless they were especially grovelling.

While saddling Myrtle, Bilbo turned to the wizard. "That person you were talking to. Are they to do with the quest?"

"My dear Bilbo, we shall all have to wait and see."

A.N: so I know this pub scene isn't in the book or film but I wanted to tie in Mona's meeting with Gandalf while he's travelling with the dwarves, to show that a bit of time has passed since her father died. Next chapter will be about Mona's convo with Gandalf, and what happens next! I hope you're all enjoying so far 3


	3. Chapter 3

A.N: Ok guys, first off I'm really sorry it's taken longer than usual to upload this chapter, I've been crazy busy! I hope you enjoy x

Mona stomped through the streets of Bree, rain lashing down on her from above. She splashed her way angrily towards The Green Dragon, muttering to herself all the while. She didn't mind being wet normally, but riding through a constant downpour for five nights, coupled with an empty stomach, her mood had gradually turned black.

Cai nudged her from behind, making his want for supper and a straw bed obvious; she turned around and scratched under his chin, and stopped.

She looked up at the sign of The Green Dragon, swinging wildly as the wind howled and the rain thundered down; she squinted into one of the windows and saw lots of people, a merry fire and lots of empty tankards. Perfect.

She led Cai past the tavern and into a little alleyway adjoining the building, and to her relief (and Cai's), saw many stable stalls at the end of it. She quickened her pace, eager to get out of the relentless downpour, and scurried into one of the stalls. There, she made Cai's bed of thick straw, and fed him some warm bran mash, which he eagerly gulped down. He raised his head out of the bucket, bran mash slopping everywhere, and nickered gratefully. Mona smiled and rubbed his ears. "Good boy." She fetched an old rag and started to rub him down, trying to get the worst of the rain and mud off.

When she finished, Cai had eaten all of his bran and was now looking strangely fluffy due to his rubbing down- then, she strung up his hay net and gave him one last hug, left his stall and entered the tavern.

She stood for a moment, temporarily stunned from the change of situation that she had very suddenly realised. For weeks now it had been only her and Cai, travelling slowly up towards the more populated areas of Middle Earth, setting traps for prey, catching fish, sleeping outdoors. Even when with Da, they always stayed together and deep into the wild. Of course, they went to the odd town for market day, but then they had always gone back to their cabin in the woods…

At the thought of her father, Mona felt the beginnings of a sharp headache she always had when she was trying very hard not to cry; it had been a month without him, and it had felt like a century.

Suddenly realising that she was standing motionless in the door way, Mona shook herself out of her thoughts and scanned for the person she was to meet.

No sign of him. Of course, she had no idea what he looked like, but she had a feeling she'd know who he was when she saw him. She sighed, and glanced around again; it was so busy that there was a small chance of nabbing a bed for the night. But, she had not travelled a month or so to be denied a feather bed at least once in a while. So, she started towards the bar.

She fought her way through masses of men who were baying for more beer; the innkeeper was trying his best, thought Mona as she studied his sweating bald head and extremely aggravated expression, but these men seemed to listen to no-one but themselves. Eventually, she arrived at the bar and caught his arm as he hurried past.

"Yes, I KNOW, more beer-", he stopped short. Peering at her, his face softened as he realised that it was a girl, no more than twenty, who was standing in his bar. Mona smiled grimly to herself- being a woman had its merits sometimes, even if that was very rare.

Hitching up her sweetest smile, Mona began. "Hello there," she said brightly, "I've just stabled my horse, and was wondering about some food, and a bed for the night?"

The innkeeper faltered, "Um, well, as you can see miss, we're very busy tonight-"

She let her smile fall a bit, but nodded understandably. "Oh, of course, how foolish of me; all of the other taverns are the same. This was my last chance as well…" she stopped. Don't want to overdo it now.

She could literally see the cogs in his brain working as the man saw himself refusing a young woman a bed and a hot meal, seeing her wander through the streets of Bree in the rain…

No. Not a chance.

He drew himself to his full height. "Pay no mind to my ramblings, miss. Of course we have a bed for you, and plenty of food and drink. We can settle your bill in the morning."

Mona flashed a brilliant and grateful smile, "Oh _thank you_ , you are so kind! Especially when you're so busy, I can't thank you enough-"

She grinned to herself later as she tucked into a steaming plate of cottage pie, complete with a tankard of hot mulled wine. The innkeeper was a good man, she decided, regardless if she was a woman or not.

She ate her supper while pondering about why she was here. After setting off from the cabin when Da died, it suddenly dawned on her that although she knew who to find, she had no idea where to find him. So it was to her great surprise when she found a tightly bound scroll, looking rather worse for wear, in one of Cai's saddlebags. Inside, it read:-

 _My dearest Mona,_

 _I am writing this while you play with your wooden horses by the fire, and you turned five today. How you're growing!_

 _My daughter, I write this in hope you find this soon after I depart this world, whenever that may be. Enclosed in this scroll is another which I do not wish for you to open, but to find a messenger and direct him to find the address that is on the back of this letter. That is how you'll find Gandalf, and how he will find you._

 _I know my dear that I have seldom often mentioned Gandalf, and am still unlikely to do so, but a deal was struck between us many years ago that has given me peace of mind that you will be taken care of, should I die. I trust him with my life, daughter, and am lucky to call him a friend._

 _How mysterious this all is! But I assure you my dear, he will answer your questions as best as he can, when the time comes._

 _Now, I finish writing, and am about to join you to play knights with your wooden horses; what a lovely thought that is._

 _Your loving father._

Mona felt something wet drip onto her hand, and jumped slightly; tears stained her cheeks as they had ran down while she was thinking of Da. Her knife slipped out of her hand to under the table, and as she picked it up the serrated edge sawed suddenly into her flesh. "Fuck!" she cursed, and in doing so banged her head while straightening up.

"Now, now, I doubt your father would want you to use such colourful language."

She sat up quickly, rubbing her head. She was right in thinking that she'd know it was him just on sight, and there he was, sitting across and smiling serenely.

Mona squared her shoulders. "Actually," she said acidly, "He taught very well in doing so."

Gandalf chuckled. "My dear, my ears are still ringing with his inventive cursing, even many years later."

At this, she relaxed slightly and gave him a small smile. "So," she said, wiping her mouth on her hand after glugging a bit of wine, "Why am I here?"

Gandalf's face fell, his eyes clouding over with sadness. "At one point, I knew your father very well. I won't go into details, but on several occasions he saved my life, as I saved his."

"Why won't you tell me? I've travelled far enough," she said, eyes narrowing.

The wizard sighed. "Because now is not the time, Mona, and yes I know your name," when her she opened her mouth, "because your father told me, so there is no point in asking."

Mona sat back, snapping her mouth shut. "He-he told me to ask you why they came. Why they killed him."

"Because they are orcs, my dear girl, and there is nothing else to it. Of course, your father's death was a victory, but a small victory. His legacy as a warrior is well known, even to this day, but as he lived so far away to raise his child, he pledged his loyalty to no-one for years." Gandalf paused as a waitress plonked a plate and tankard in front of him. "He raised you as a hunter, a fighter. He raised you to trust your instincts, but most importantly, in his words, '"shit happens,'" Gandalf screwed up his nose slightly at the crude words, while Mona smiled.

"So…he died because of 'shit happens'? Not because we were the last of an ancient and precious dynasty or something?" she laughed, "That's what normally happens, doesn't it?"

Gandalf chuckled. "No, I'm afraid not. But, I'll tell you this; the orcs felt him as an enough threat to want to kill him. What they don't know is that he has a child."

"So?" said Mona with a shrug. "Even if they knew, I'm a girl. Girls don't matter when it comes to family legacy. If I was his son, then it'd be different, like I was another threat."

"Oh, but you are," smiled Gandalf, "you fight twice as well as any man, not to mention having the same blood that ran through his veins."

"But _why_ would I be a threat in the first place? We've had peace for four hundred years, it's not like he geared me up for battle; it was for my own good, being able to fend for myself."

Gandalf's eyes flickered. "True, peace we have had, but yet something grows in the shadows…" he murmured, his voice trailing off.

"Um, what?" Mona said in confusion. The wizard's eyes focused on her face again.

"I shall tell you in time, when I'm sure. Now," he said, clapping his hands together, "I promised your father to keep an eye on you, so that is exactly what I'll do. You shall come with me," he leaned forward, beaming, "on an adventure."

"On an adventure?" repeated Mona.

"Yes indeed, where I can most definitely keep my eye on you. You are to join Thorin Oakenshield's Company on my insistence. I presume you know who he is?"

"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "Dwarf prince. Lost Erebor to a dirty great dragon called Smaug. Tradegy and loss, etc. Very fucked up," she said matter of factly.

Gandalf continued to beam, until it dawned on her. "No. Nononononono. No."

"Oh, yes," the wizard said cheerfully, "You are to join them in three days' time, where I shall use my very useful source of tact to engineer the situation."

"You promised my father to keep me safe, and you're sending me with a load of dwarves on a suicide mission to Erebor? To get it back from a dragon? A fucking dragon?" she said incredulously, her voice going up a pitch.

"Nonsense," said Gandalf, pointedly ignoring her swearing, "You are going on a valiant quest to get rid of that blasted dragon once and for all. Too long has he sat in that mountain." His eyes flickered again, but this time over her shoulder. "Ah, I see I must go. No! Don't turn around." Gandalf fumbled in his pocket until he drew out a piece of parchment, which he handed to her. A map.

"Find us there at twelve noon. And don't be late."

And with that, he disappeared.

Mona sat there, stunned. She got up from her seat some time later, and somehow found her way to her room.

She washed, and looked into the looking glass over the sink. Her ginger hair was a mass of thick waves and straggles, and her skin flushed. Her eyes looked wide, her pupils black as ink. She took a deep breath, and tied her hair up into a bun. She looked straight back at herself in the mirror, and thought about her meeting with Gandalf. Did he really expect her to go on that bloody quest? She paused and then shrugged.

"Well, it's not as if I have anything better to do," she murmured under her breath.


	4. Chapter 4

Leaves whispered as the breeze rippled through, trees sighing softly. The last of the day's sunlight was a gentle gold, and shone through some gaps in the leafy canopy of the forest, dappling the grass. And Bilbo Baggins was happy.

Yes, he was happy, at least for that moment. There was no point denying that this day had been a good one, thought Bilbo, as Myrtle tossed her head. A day filled with steady riding, brilliant sunshine and plenty of food (thank goodness) had lifted Bilbo's spirits for the first time since leaving Bag End. And yet, something was different. Since the disastrous visit to Bree, the dwarves had all been subdued lately; less songs were bellowed as they rode, and there was muttering instead of uproarious laughter around the fire at the end of each day. They had felt Gandalf's wrath after Bree, that was true, but only for a few days or so; indeed, the wizard had been rather jovial recently, thought Bilbo as he craned his neck to look at Gandalf riding at the front of the pack; and yet, when Bilbo tried to enquire to the reason, the wizard huffed back with "all in good time, my dear fellow", so Bilbo left it at that.

If he was honest with himself, a jovial Gandalf scared him just as much as a grumpy Gandalf; the last time he had seen the wizard in a good mood, he found himself agreeing to a preposterous adventure to Erebor.

Bilbo was deep in thought (if he could eat anything right now, what would it be?) when the company suddenly halted; he shuffled Myrtle alongside Bofur's pony, and peered towards the front of the pack.

They had reached the end of their stint in the dappled woodland and had emerged into fairly open land; a little way ahead, the ruins of a small stone cottage could be seen, lumps of wall and chimney strewn across the grass. Bilbo's eyes wandered until they rested upon Thorin and Gandalf, involved in what looked like a heated quarrel. Suddenly, Gandalf threw his hands up in despair and strode towards the rest of the company, his face thunderous. The wizard mounted his horse once again, and swung around in the opposite direction.

Bilbo had just opened his mouth to ask Gandalf anxiously where he was going, when a few soft _thumps_ was heard behind them.

They all swung around, swords drawn and in Kili's case, arrow nocked. Eyes scanned quickly and warily for any sign of where the sounds had come from, and it was the hobbit that gave a shout when he found it.

Above them, fairly high in an ancient looking oak, was a girl. She was leaning back on a great bough, propped up against the trunk of the tree. One leg was swinging over the branch, while the other was bent upwards; wild, bushy, ginger hair bounced crazily with every movement she made. An apple was being scrunched greedily, while many others lay littered on the ground, explaining the sounds from earlier. A conker coloured horse crunched up the apple cores eagerly as they fell to the grass. The apple in her hand was demolished within seconds, and its core went to join the others on the ground. She flashed a sharp toothed grin at the dwarves' confusion, picking bits of apple out of her teeth. Then, she looked at Gandalf and inclined her head slightly.

Bilbo glanced quickly at the wizard, who looked very pleased, and to Thorin, who looked half insane with anger, half with curiosity.

"Well," announced the girl sweetly, "Aren't you going to ask me down?"

She was met with a stony silence, so she laughed. With that, she swung herself down easily from her perch, and landed on the ground, dusting off her trousers. She straightened up, and surveyed the scene of astounded dwarves before her.

She pulled her cheek up in a lob-sided smile, exasperation etched on her face. "Haven't they seen a girl before?" she called to the wizard, who in turn chuckled.

"To that my dear, I believe I can answer in the affirmative. Please excuse their rudeness."

The girl's eyes glinted with mirth as her gaze rested upon Thorin. "Well, Gandalf, you said he was handsome, but you didn't do him justice, it seems." Sarcasm dripped from her voice, and Bilbo peered anxiously at Thorin, who was breathing like a winded rhinoceros, grime smeared on his face after days without washing, eyes wide with rage. The girl threw her head back and laughed at her own joke, which caused everyone (except Thorin) to suddenly fight a smile when hearing the noise. It was a cross between cackling and snorting, but still full of light. Her wild russet curls framed her broad face, which was a myriad of freckles. She was fairly small, noticed Bilbo (around five four), but her shoulders were squared broadly, which could only be a result of hard work and riding. Her frame overall was strong and sturdy, with two short daggers crisscrossed in their scabbards on her back. On her belt hung a sword, too large for her short frame, her clothes well-made but shabby. One hand rested on said sword, while the other was patting her horse; these were working hands, thought Bilbo- scarred, slightly rough, and weathered. It was the same story for the rest of her skin, with the added feature of freckles.

The girl suddenly looked at Bilbo, who in turn immediately coloured at being caught looking. She raised an eyebrow and shot a fleeting look at the wizard, and then back to the hobbit. Her brow furrowed slightly while she looked, and Bilbo suddenly realised her eyes, which were very dark, had stayed sad throughout her laughter. Her gaze swept over him one last time, before she shrugged and turned her attention to Thorin. She gave a mock bow and flashed another grin.

"Speak," growled Thorin, "or be on your way, woman."

"Speak I shall," said the girl cheerfully, "I have heard of you, Thorin Oakenshield, and of your quest, and wish to join as your sixteenth member of your Company."

"How did you know there was that many of us?" asked Gloin quickly and triumphantly, as if he'd caught her out.

"Because," replied the girl coolly, "I can count."

Gloin reddened.

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "I have no idea of the quest you speak of, _woman_ , nor of its purpose. Piss off." He turned his pony around abruptly.

"I know that you're being hunted. By orcs. They killed my father looking for you."

The girl's voice rang clearly. Her face was calm as she unburdened the heavy stone in her chest with that single sentence, to the dwarves she'd only known for five minutes. Her eyes filled with sadness yet again.

Thorin stopped. He turned his head slightly. "Who was your father?" he asked quietly.

The girl looked away, and Gandalf stepped forward. "Her father," the wizard stated, "was Bleddyn of Iorweth. She is his only child."

Thorin's shoulders stiffened. The name meant something.

"She's coming with us." said Gandalf.

The dwarf's pony was suddenly wheeled furiously around.

"Is she indeed? And can this- this _girl_ fight? Can she hunt? Can she-"

"Of course she can," said Gandalf briskly, "as good if not better than many of your companions, I'd wager."

Thorin's eyes widened. "Y-you did this. You knew she'd be here. That's what you were doing in Bree."

"Of course that's what I was doing in Bree," said Gandalf impatiently, "goodness gracious Thorin, get a hold of yourself. Your stubbornness will be the end of you."

"But Gandalf," said Thorin, rather reminiscent of a child pleading its mother for sweets, "she's a _woman_."

"Oh, well spotted." said the girl acidly.

Thorin glanced furiously at the girl. Fierce, dark brown eyes met his gaze levelly.

The dwarf looked at Gandalf. Suddenly, just like that, he knew it was over.

"You'll be taking first watch tonight then, _girl_." Thorin curled his lip slightly. "Do you have a name?"

The girl squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "My name," she said, "is Mona."


	5. Chapter 5

Mona swung herself onto Cai's back, and nudged his sides with her heels. He threw his head a bit, disgruntled at being torn away from his frantic apple scrunching, but walked on all the same. She could literally feel the dwarves' stares burning into the back of her head, so she doubled back to join Gandalf at the back at the group. Here, the wizard was fumbling with his tobacco pouch, pipe already in his mouth.

"You're late," huffed Gandalf, slightly muffled due to the pipe, "I said twelve noon, not sunset."

"Sorry, had to stop off for a bit. Cai got lame. Stone in his hoof."

The wizard shrugged. "No matter," he said, lighting his pipe at last, "You're here, I suppose."

Mona gathered up her reins. "I don't think they like me much," she said matter-of-factly, glancing over at the dwarves ahead of her.

"Of course they don't, and I'll tell you something else; if you're anything like your father then that might not change in a hurry," replied Gandalf flatly.

"What do you mean?" asked Mona sharply.

"My dear girl, you know yourself how quick he was to anger. A temper your father had to say the least, landing him in hot water too numerous to count." Gandalf puffed on his pipe, smoke billowing gently from his nose. "I see him in you, you know." The wizard smiled ruefully. "You have his temper and skill, but your mother's stubbornness and sharp tongue."

Mona turned her head so quickly she almost cricked her neck. "You knew my mother?" she said, astounded.

"Only for a short while. Her words could crack like a whip." Gandalf looked at Mona questionably. "Did your father ever speak of her to you?"

"No, not really," she replied, still reeling. "He always got terribly sad when he spoke of her." Mona's mind strayed back, as it did nowadays when thinking about Da. "I- I think he thought about her a lot. Most of the time, probably. He'd stare into the fire every night, not really saying anything." She shook herself out of reverie when she noticed her eyes pricked, tears threatening to spill yet again. _Stop it_ , she told herself firmly. She cleared her throat suddenly and shrugged. "I look quite similar to her, apparently."

Gandalf puffed again, readjusting his hat as a low branch nearly brushed it off. "You have her eyes. Dark, very dark. And her hair of course." Gandalf smiled slightly. "You could always spot her in battle. Bright as a flame."

This time, Mona really did crick her neck. "In _battle_?"

The wizard coughed suddenly, smoke obscuring his face for a moment. His hand waved it away, and he looked guilty.

"What the hell do you mean in battle? My mother fought? As in really fought?"

Gandalf coughed again. "I, er-"

Mona stared at him. "Tell me," she demanded.

"No."

"Why not?!"

"Because now is not the time."

"You fu-"

Mona nudged Cai forward and rounded him quickly, and in doing so blocked Gandalf's way.

"You _will_ tell me. I don't care if it's the wrong fucking time. Tell me."

The wizard looked at her levelly for a long time. Finally, he spoke.

"I will tell you everything when you need to know, when it's the right time. Now is not. But you will know everything when it comes. I promise you."

Mona glared at him, but turned Cai back around until she was riding alongside Gandalf again. "If I die on this sodding quest before you tell me, I'm taking you to hell with me," she said darkly.

The wizard chuckled. "I do not doubt it."

"We'll stop here for the night," called Thorin from the front of the group, dismounting with a thud. "Bombur, sort supper out. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. And someone get a fire going."

And it was here where Gandalf gave a tremendous scowl, and he and Thorin were engaged in a row yet again. Mona watched upon Cai, faintly amused by the scene. She bent down to loosen Cai's girth strap slightly, and by the time she lifted her head again, the wizard was nowhere to be seen.

"Bloody brilliant," she muttered to herself. Cheers, Gandalf.

She dismounted, and led to the very small creature she had noticed earlier. His chestnut mop of curls was standing on end, as if he's ran his hand through it many times; his maroon coat was stained and dirty, but the brass buttons still glinted cheerfully.

Bilbo suddenly noticed that the girl was making her way towards him. She stopped, and scratched Myrtle under her chin. Them, she turned to the hobbit.

"Where's he gone?" she asked bluntly.

"Who?" asked Bilbo stupidly.

"Gandalf," replied Mona, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, er- I don't know exactly. He and Thorin argued about staying here for the night."

She nodded. "Right." She looked at him again, but more kindly. She thrust out her hand, which he shook. "Mona," she stated.

"Bilbo Baggins. At your service." He blanched. The dwarves were obviously rubbing off on him.

The girl laughed her strange laugh, making Bilbo smile shyly.

"What are you doing here then?" Mona enquired, beginning to unsaddle Cai.

"Gandalf," Bilbo said simply.

"Bloody hell. Seems he does this a lot then."

After seeing to the ponies and settling down to eat their supper, Bilbo found himself in a situation in which he hadn't experienced since leaving Bag End; he was chatting to someone as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He liked Mona very much, he decided, even if her choice of swearwords were rather colourful for a relatively normal conversation. She wasn't a huge talker, he noticed, but listened intently, and Bilbo found himself incredibly at ease in her company. Indeed, it was only until Thorin had grunted "Girl. First watch. Now," that Bilbo realised how much time had passed.

The hobbit looked at Mona. "Go on," she encouraged, "Get some sleep."

"Are you sure?" asked Bilbo awkwardly.

She grinned. "'Course I'm sure. Anyway, mustn't upset Dwarf Prince."

Bilbo laughed, earning him a few disapproving looks from some of the dwarves. "Goodnight then."

"Night, Bilbo."

Hours passed. Mona crossed her ankles and looked up into the sky. Stars glinted above, welcoming her as always. Suddenly, something caught the corner of her eye. She craned her neck to stare at the tiny pinprick of orange she could just about make out in the trees below. Surely- surely that wasn't a fire? The light flickered as she watched. Definitely a fire.

She grabbed her sword. Time to wake up the dwarves.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello everyone! Okay, first off I'm really fuckin sorry this has taken so long, I promise you that I don't forget about it or anything; I'm just working a lot at the moment so I'm just writing as much as I can in the little free time I have. I'm determined not to leave the next chapter so bloody late this time! Speaking of which, the coming chapters will see Mona interacting more and more with the dwarves, especially with one in particular. Anyway, hope you all enjoy x

The welt on the back of her shin itched furiously. Mona scowled as she leant down to scratch the raised line of skin that was annoying her so much, a parting gift from one of the trolls. She gingerly peeled back the flap of fabric that she had cut into her trousers earlier, and peered at the purplish-red line that now decorated her shin. She prodded it gently, and let out a low hiss; this was going to stay for a while.

She straightened up, and started fumbling in one of Cai's saddlebags (surely she had some kind of salve somewhere?), and groaned with pain; the constant movement and jolting of riding Cai was rubbing her already hellish welt red raw. As she looked in her bags, she thought back to only a few hours ago when she woke Thorin up about the distant pinprick of fire. She frowned slightly and gathered up her reins as she remembered the look on Thorin's face as he woke; his eyes had opened at once when she shook his shoulder, but hardened as soon as he realised who it was. He had sat up before she had said a word.

"What is it?" he had asked, brushing dark hair out of his eyes quickly.

She nodded her head towards the light. "Over there."

He looked.

"I'll wake the others. Get ready."

She had turned away as soon as he said it, and started to tighten the belt that carried her father's sword around her waist. She remembered the trolls, large and hulking over their fire, and little Bilbo dodging and weaving around their grabbing, meaty hands; she remembered Dwalin slicing through a troll thigh, Fili cleaving fingers that nearly wrapped around his brother, Nori trying to saw through the pen that held the ponies. She remembered (and winced at the thought) the crack of the thick rope as one of the trolls swung it wildly around, and her scream as it caught the back of her shin. She'd got angry then. She'd always hated coming off worse in anything. Not even in a competitive way- she was too stubborn for her own bloody good, Da always said, to the point of fucking things up. And fucked things up she did, when she tripped over her own feet (she cringed with embarrassed horror) just as she slid between a troll's legs, slicing behind his knees.

Mona finally located the salve, which was in a small clay pot. She shook out the lid, and stuck her fingers in; it smelled strongly of honey and herbs. Her hand shook slightly has she applied the salve onto the welt, and gritted her teeth as it burned. She applied more and more of the sticky, herby paste until the pain reduced to a dull throb.

She straightened up in Cai's saddle, swivelling her head slowly, trying to get the bloody crick out of her neck. She glanced towards Thorin at the front of the company. Yes, she remembered the fight, she remembered Gandalf appearing along with the dawn, but she also remembered him. She remembered his face just before she woke him; it was still lined with worry and pain, rather than the peace that sleep normally brought. His hands were crossed and rested over his sword on his chest, which had reminded her suddenly and painfully in the way she had left her father's body.

Mona stared at Thorin's back, her brow furrowing deeper. The way he'd looked at her when he woke was the same as always; with resentment and contempt. But she surprised herself at feeling unmeasurable sadness when thinking of his sleeping form; not even sleep could make him forget the pain he so obviously carried. She did not pity him, however; she only met him a few days ago and she knew him well enough from their forced, limited communications, that pity was something Thorin couldn't stand.

Suddenly, the company stopped. Mona shook herself out of her thoughts to hear Bofur complaining loudly of a disgusting smell that stung her nostrils furiously.

"What the fuck is tha' stench?" grunted Gloin moodily, as if the smell had decided to offend him personally.

"Troll, but far more concentrated," said Gandalf, wrinkling his nose.

"There must be a hoard nearby then," called Fili from the front, looking around.

"It's over there," said Gandalf simply, pointing his staff.

"How do you know?" said Ori nervously.

"Because, my dear Ori," said Gandalf, squinting, "if in doubt, always follow your nose."

So down they trudged into the dark, stinking hole below the roots of a dead pine. Mona had just grabbed the back of Bilbo's jacket when he suddenly slid with a squeak, when Gandalf passed her a flaming torch.

"Hold this," he murmured, his eyes fixed on something in the gloom. He lit his staff, and raised it high above their heads.

Gold coins glittered beneath their feet, bringing delighted noises from the dwarves; cold steel of weapons glinted dully from underneath their thick coat of cobwebs and dust, while wooden trunks of various sizes, some thrown carelessly on their sides, littered the rest of the floor.

Mona squinted towards where Gandalf was inspecting a filthy but beautifully crafted sword, and then passed it to Thorin.

"These were made by the High Elves of Gondolin," murmured Gandalf, now handling another equally beautiful sword. "You could not wish for a finer blade," he added sharply, as Thorin immediately made to hand the weapon back with a look of disdain.

Mona raised her torch slightly higher, and realised she was very close to one of the trunks. She made her way over to it and nudged it open with her foot. She passed the torch to Bilbo wordlessly, and crouched down to inspect the contents.

Clothes, exquisitely crafted yet carrying the disgusting odour of troll, lined the insides of the trunk almost like a pillow; Mona dug her hands in deeper and chucked most of them out. She frowned slightly- something wrapped in a very odd shape was at the bottom, surrounded by mouldy parchment, two gold broaches (one a horse, the other a bull), a polished bone comb, and a dark green, leather scabbard. She drew the package out, and started to unwind the cloth that wrapped it.

A sword dropped onto the floor. It was beautiful, thought Mona, but in a different style to the ones Gandalf had found. It wasn't as long, nor was it as elegant- instead, it was smaller with detailed engravings on the blade itself; the hilt showed signs of heavy use, the thick leather (plain) stained and frayed slightly. Mona picked it up and weighed it in her hand- it was lighter than she expected. She sliced the air, making Bilbo jump, and stooped to pick the leather scabbard out of the trunk. She found herself grinning- she was keeping this blade.

"Let's move," called Thorin loudly, "before this stench makes me sick."

"Just not on me this time," muttered Bilbo grumpily.

Mona unbuckled Da's sword around her waist and replaced it with her new one. It was a strange feeling, she mused as she also picked up the broaches, comb and stuffed her money bag with gold coins; her father's sword was incredibly important to her, but it was too large for her short frame. This new sword suited her far more, and she liked the look and feel of it- she thought it was beautiful, but she could see how some might call it shabby. But she liked it that way- the sword had been loved and looked after, it was clear.

Mona was still looking at her new sword when she climbed awkwardly out of the hole (after giving Bilbo a leg up); daylight caught the gold engravings of the hilt, and it glinted brightly.

"What's that you've got there?" a voice said behind her, making her jump. Gandalf loomed over her, looking suspiciously at the sword.

"I found it in there," she said, jerking her head towards the hole, "I like it it. Da's sword is too big for me."

Gandalf took the sword and turned it over in his hands. "A good blade," he nodded, "still sharp. Of Rohan making, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah, I thought so. The design and engravings is their style, from what I remember anyway."

Gandalf looked at her sharply. "You've been there?"

Mona snorted. "We may have lived in a hut in the woods, but we weren't hermits." She paused as she tied her father's sword tightly to Cai's saddle. "I went there briefly a few times, when me and Da would go to markets and things." She finished tying it down, and looked up at the wizard. "I liked it there; the people were nice." She frowned. "But they were sad. Always sad, even when they smiled."

Gandalf opened his mouth to reply, but Thorin had stumped over. "We should move while we still have daylight. We've stayed here for too long." The dwarf shot her a glance, as if it was somehow her fault. "Let's move! Get the ponies!" he shouted.

Mona waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Gandalf. "Is he always so bloody dour?" she said, crossing her arms.

"You can hardly blame him, Mona," Gandalf said absently as he swung upon his horse. "Oh, by the way- you've found a good blade there. It deserves a name."

Mona nodded. She fumbled with the scabbard on her waist, and slid the sword into it; the steel nicked her thumb. "Shit," she muttered, sucking her thumb.

She glanced up and caught Bofur looking at her. He coloured slightly, and gave a nervous laugh. She slowly, purposely, took her thumb out of her mouth, and grinned. He looked away, still laughing.

Mona swung herself onto Cai's back and laughed to herself. She had a new friend, it seemed.


	7. Chapter 7

Ok, I lied. I took fuckin centuries to do this chapter. I'M SORRY. Also, I know it's relatively short to my other chapters, but I want to warm up the relationship between Mona and a certain dwarf to warm up gradually before smashing straight to it. It's also more of an action one too, seeing as I hadn't properly delved into that in the previous chapter. But worry not, they're about to get juicier (wink)….enjoy darlings!

"Run! RUN!"

The wind whipped Mona's hair crazily in and around her face as she bent down low on Cai's back. Gandalf's roar from ahead made her spur Cai on even more, and he tossed his head and went even quicker in reply. Around her, the dwarves galloped on their own ponies, swords drawn with shouts and yells to their steeds and each other. Then, an arrow whistled over her head, missing her by inches.

"Faster Cai! Faster!" she said desperately, drawing her own sword as the wargs' heavy footfalls and snarling drew ever nearer. She leant even lower over Cai's neck to avoid yet another arrow, and then tugged at his reins to avoid a large slab of rock that she had suddenly just spotted; Cai swerved so sharply that she almost flew off the saddle, and he stumbled slightly. Then, the snarling behind her was even louder, and she turned her head to see the great mass of muscle and fur that was trying to bite Cai, and met the eyes of the orc that was riding it. It raised its scythe with a yell and she screamed back, sliced it in the chest first before slashing its throat; it flopped off the beast with a gurgle when another orc appeared on an even bigger warg, brandishing an axe. With a growl it sliced it at her head, flapping its heels into the warg's sides to make it go faster. Mona ducked yet again, and grabbed at Cai's reins to avoid another boulder, but the warg was not so lucky. It smashed into the rock and its rider jolted out of the saddle, still brandishing its axe as it managed to grab onto a leather strap of her saddle; she stabbed with her sword and it ducked, climbing higher onto Cai's back until she screamed again, sheathed her sword altogether, let go of the reins and broke the orc's neck with her hands. She grabbed the reins frantically and pulled Cai to the left back to the group, as her orcs had made her stray from them. Drawing her sword again, she sliced through another orc's head as it lunged, and drew level with Gandalf.

"There's too many of them! We can't hold them off!" she yelled to him, swerving to avoid a warg that Dwalin had just felled with his warhammer.

"We must keep going! A little further!" he called back, staff raised in one hand and sword twirling in the other. "When I say, stay with me!"

Mona ducked again as another arrow shot past, and looked up in time to see it thudding into the back of Thorin's calf in front of her. He roared with pain but kept going nonetheless, burying his sword in a warg's neck.

"Ahead! Make for the gap in the stones! Quickly! Mona, Thorin and Kili, stay with me! Dwalin, lead the others on!"

Mona squinted ahead at the smallish gap in a cluster of rocks; surely, it was more of a drop then a passage? How were the horses going to get-

She gasped as a sword appeared, ready to drive itself into Cai's neck, when she parried it with her own and twisted, disarming the orc and beheading it. She threw her hair out of her face to see the others reaching the gap and disappearing down it. She reached there the same time as Thorin, and threw herself off Cai's back. She chucked his reins to Dwalin, and barely had time to turn around when a warg threw itself at her. She dropped and rolled and was up on her feet again but on the other side of the beast, and rove her sword in its belly; the orc leapt off with a shriek and sliced at her throat, missing her by inches. She parried a few more times until knocking it to its knees, and drove her sword through the roof of its mouth. She looked up to see Thorin finishing another warg off, but another was behind him, opening its huge mouth-

"No!" she screamed, grabbed a discarded orc spear and threw it with all her might. It met its mark through the beast's head, blood spattering Thorin's front as he turned around in surprise.

"Now! Down the passage! Quickly!" shouted Gandalf, "Kili! Shoot a few more but that's it! Come!"

Mona sprinted toward the wizard and the gap, slicing an orc in the chest as she ran. She was almost there, just a few more steps-

"Get DOWN!" roared Thorin suddenly, and too late she saw the huge orc that had launched itself off the rock face towards her, too late she saw the glint of its sword and its shriek; but suddenly it dropped out of the air like a rag doll, an axe deep in its skull.

No time to think about it, time to go. She reached Gandalf who ushered her into the hole, and down she slid.

She felt her backside hit the cool ground beneath her, and looked up to see Gandalf sliding in after Kili and Thorin. She got up to give them some room, and gripped her sword tightly. There were still loads of them out there, and sure enough an orc reached the entrance above them.

Suddenly, a horn blew from above, and the orc stiffened and fell, and arrow sticking out between its shoulder blades. Dwalin drew it out roughly and threw it down. "Elves," he spat, as noises of swords clashing and bodies falling were heard above.

"What is this place?" said Dori nervously, looking up.

"The beginning of a path that will eventually lead us to answers we need," said Gandalf, sheathing his sword. "Come now, on we go. And we will have to lead the ponies, the way is too narrow to ride."

"Cai!" said Mona, nearly sobbing. She pushed her way through the dwarves towards her horse, whose fur was frothing with sweat. "Good boy," she murmured, throwing her arms around him. "Very good boy." Cai whickered wearily and rubbed his head on her shoulder.

She drew back and looked at Dwalin. "Thank you."

"For what?" he said roughly.

"For getting him down here," she jerked her head at Cai, "god knows how you got the others down too."

Dwalin shrugged. "Aye," he muttered, "don't mention it."

The dwarves and Bilbo (who looked very pale) shuffled past her to start their way on the path, after they had removed the arrow sticking out of Thorin's calf and bound it quickly but tightly. Mona had just swept her thick hair out of her sweaty face and up into a bun, when Thorin drew alongside her. "I mean to thank you," he said stiffly, "for killing that warg."

"Oh," she said in surprise, "well, thank you too. For chucking an axe into that orc's head. Worked a treat."

The ghost of a wry smile played at the corners of his mouth, before disappearing again. He looked at her instead, one eyebrow slightly raised. "You fought well."

"You sound surprised," she said, wiping a grubby hand on her brow.

"I am."

"I'll still take it as a compliment. You're not glowering at me for a start, which I think is a first for you," she said lightly, sheathing her sword and fiddling with the straps. "But don't you worry," she added, looking up at him, "I know I'm good."

And so with one of her sharp toothed grins she strode past him to Cai, who as always, was waiting patiently for her. And she knew for certain that this time, she definitely saw him smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank fuck I packed some wine, thought Mona as she took a long slug of it out of the skin. Her hands shook slightly as she put the stopper back, and groaned as she stretched up to re-attach it to Cai's saddle; the mad dash of the orc chase had made her legs wobbly with shock, and sore with use.

It was funny, she mused, as she leant her head on Cai's still sweaty neck as they plodded along the path; Da had always taught her to be prepared, to fight when the time came- but when she first heard the blast of the orc pack's horn and their insane shrieks, she had frozen. The only thing her brain seemed to be thinking about was how fucking terrified she was, not of how she was going to spring into action with her sword drawn. Only when the dwarves had launched their ponies into a gallop and were bellowing her name had her brain ground back into gear, only then had she urged Cai to gallop alongside them, and only then did she finally draw her sword.

Speaking of which, the sword that she picked up from the troll hoard (at which Fili and Kili had snorted with mirth when she showed them over supper a few nights back) had served her well. She had been right to gauge its use in proportion to her size, and the blade itself had proven itself sharp enough to hew its way through several orc and warg necks; overall, she was rather proud of it.

Mona frowned slightly as she looked down at her sword at her hip, as she was still yet to give it a name; she snorted suddenly as she considered giving it an Elvish name, just to piss Thorin off.

Having said that, Dwarf Prince had actually just saved her life, and, in an even more astounding turn in events, had thanked her for saving his own. Mona scratched under Cai's chin absentmindedly as she peered towards Thorin, and of how easily he had thrown that axe…

A sniff to her right pulled her out of her reverie. Looking around, she saw Bilbo wiping his nose on his cuff with a look of mild disgust as he did so; he was obviously still mourning his lack of handkerchiefs. The hobbit was also extremely pale.

"Are you alright Bilbo?" said Mona, as kindly as she could. It was plain that she wasn't the only one who had had a shock.

Bilbo nodded, his eyes to the ground. "It's just…when you look into their eyes, they really want to kill you, you know?"

"I know," she replied gently, "It's a shock, I understand. You're not the only one, trust me."

Bilbo's brow furrowed. "Really?"

"Really. I was bloody terrified. Still am, if I'm honest with you."

The hobbit gave a short laugh. "Right. Well. If you're terrified, I'm even more fucked than I thought possible."

Mona stopped so suddenly that Cai lurched forwards a little. "Bilbo!"

"What?" said Bilbo, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You just-didn't you-? Didn't you realise what you just said?! You swore! You said fuck!"

Colour flooded into Bilbo's cheeks and his eyes widened with horror.

"Oh my goodness! Oh my- why did I say that? I've never uttered that disgusting word in my life! Good gracious, what is happening to me?! Oh my lord, good heavens, I can't believe it- Mona, Mona, why are you laughing? This isn't funny in the slightest-"

For Mona had thrown her head back and was snorting her strange, slightly unsettling laugh, with tears of mirth streaming down her face. At last she straightened up and started walking on again, still giggling as Bilbo trotted alongside her, gibbering.

"Good heavens- please- please try to forget I ever said that Mona-"

"Forget?" choked Mona, "Forget?! How could I possibly ever forget that? No, I'm sorry Bilbo, I'm afraid that's burnt its mark in my memories forever-"

"Oh, shut up," snapped Bilbo, yet again in a most un-Bilbo way, as Mona continued to grin broadly.

Bilbo's mood turned steadily grumpier as they plodded along the shadowy, stony path, until at last, they all stepped into brilliant sunshine. Mona blinked in surprise, and what she saw below in the valley took her breath away.

"Rivendell!" breathed Bilbo, and she was pleased to see that his black mood seemed to have vanished; instead, a look of wonder was on his face, very similar to those of the dwarves too.

"Rivendell indeed!" said Gandalf cheerily. "We'll stay here for tonight. And don't look like that Thorin, you know full well only Elrond will be able to read that map of yours; he will help us."

Thorin gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. "Help? Help? And were was his help when Erebor fell? Where was the help of his people to mine-"

"I think we've heard all this before, Thorin," said Gandalf testily, "Please spare it for a night when we have quite exhausted every other possible topic of conversation, and even then I can't guarantee I'd be happy to hear it again."

"Bit harsh, aren't you?" muttered Mona to Gandalf, as the wizard ushered the dwarves in front of him.

"Hark who's talking," Gandalf said out of the corner of his mouth, "I've been chased by several orcs today and do not wish to make this day any more dreary then it already has been."

"Oh, alright," said Mona, "But no more chastising me about my apparent sharp tongue, ok? Looks like you can give me a run for my money in that department."

"I shall ignore that last comment of yours," replied Gandalf loftily, "Been teaching Bilbo any more swearwords recently?"

Some strands of hair fell from her bun as she giggled.

"How can you accuse me of that? He was with the dwarves for ages before he met me…"

Gandalf pursed his lips slightly as he looked ahead to the little hobbit, who was pleading with Myrtle to keep walking. "He's changed rather since leaving Bag-End, hasn't he?" he said quietly.

Mona also looked at Bilbo. "Yeah, I suppose he has. Not much though."

The wizard continued to look thoughtfully at the hobbit. "Hm...I quite agree. The biggest changes are to come, I'd wager- Bombur! BOMBUR! Do _not_ tou- DON'T TOUCH IT I SAY! Curse these ridiculous dwarves!" Gandalf huffed as he swept past Mona in a rage.

"Wizards," said Bofur wisely to her, "Tempers like thunderstorms."

Mona chuckled as she drew alongside him. "I always try to stay in his good books, myself."

Bofur grinned. "Likewise. Come on lass," he said suddenly, "Come now, not far to go."

Mona had just opened her mouth in confusion until she realised that he was talking to his pony, Gilly, not her. She looked at the pony closer, and saw the hair on her left flank was matted with blood.

"Oh no," Mona said softly, "How?"

"Arrow. Looks worse than it is, mind. Grazed her really. If it had hit her properly I don't think either of us would be here now," said Bofur, rubbing Gilly's forehead. Despite his words, he looked worried.

"When we get to Rivendell I'll help you," said Mona, touching his shoulder briefly, "I reckon I've got enough healing salve in my bags to last an age."

Bofur smiled at her. "Cheers lass. Me and Gilly get on, you see. Bit like you and yours," he said, nodding his head at Cai.

Mona turned her head towards her horse, whose head was starting to droop with tiredness. "Yeah, I get you. He was my father's really, hence why he's a bit too big for me; but I love him to bit. Always have," as she rumpled his forelock affectionately.

Bofur and Mona chatted until at last the company reached the gates of Rivendell. Here they all stood around rather awkwardly (especially Thorin) until a blast from a horn rang through the air; suddenly, they found themselves surrounded by several Elvish horsemen.

"Elrond!" called Gandalf, "How good to see you, old friend."

With this, a tall, dark haired Elf swung down from his horse. A light silver headpiece adorned his forehead, and his eyes were a deep, almost dark, blue. Looking at him, Mona felt very small, and looking at him further, noticed how good looking this Elrond was; she grinned very slightly to herself. Must be his aura of wisdom or something.

Bofur caught her eye and smirked at her. Somehow, he knew what she was thinking. She looked away hurriedly.

Elrond strode towards Gandalf and they exchanged a few words. He then turned towards the dwarves.

"Welcome, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, and his Company! Please rest here tonight, as you have had a somewhat unsettling journey; later, when you had eaten and rested somewhat, I will answer any questions you have. Please," Elrond said, bowing slightly, "If you would follow Anhaulwen through to the parlour, where food will be waiting."

"No."

Thorin's voice cut through the pleasant air like a knife.

"I had no intention of leading my Company to this place, and it is plain that it is only through the will of a certain wizard to why we are here. However, since you have offered us food and shelter, it would be ungracious of us to refuse," said Thorin, speaking with deliberate care.

"That being said," his voice hardening, "While I will gladly let my Company eat and rest now, I will not. You have readily said that you probably know the answers to my questions, and I intent to get them. So, I will have them, with no further delay."

It was very quiet. Gandalf looked furiously at Thorin, and Bilbo's eyes flicked in between Elrond and the dwarf nervously. Balin however, was looking at Thorin with immense pride, and Dwalin gripped his axe threateningly.

Elrond simply looked at Thorin. At last, he said, "But of course. Anhaulwen, please show the Company the way to the parlour. Thorin, if you would follow me."

Thorin nodded his head to Balin, and the two followed Elrond. Mona had turned Cai to follow Bofur and the others, when Gandalf swooped down upon her.

"You had better come too. Leave Cai with the others, they'll look after him."

"What? No!" she said in outrage, "I was going to help Bofur heal Gilly! And I'm starving, why can't I eat now and join later-"

"You will join me now or not at all," said Gandalf dangerously, and swept off to follow Elrond, Thorin and Balin.

Mona groaned. "Bad luck lass," said Bofur sympathetically, "Don't worry about Gilly, I'll manage."

Mona rummaged in one of Cai's saddlebags. "Wait, hang on- yeah, there you go," and she extracted a small clay pot. "This is the salve. Use the whole lot on her, I have loads."

Bofur took the pot and smiled at her. "Cheers. I'll rub Cai down and feed him, don't worry. And cheer up lass," he smirked and leant towards her, "You'll be able to spend some time with that Elrond, won't you-"

"Oh, shut up," Mona snapped. Bofur roared with laughter.

"I'll save you some food," he said, giving her a wink, and left to join the others in the parlour.

And so Mona set off after Gandalf, wondering grumpily what could be so incredibly important that she was missing supper for.


End file.
